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About this project

What is this?

I wrote a pretty messed up little science fiction novel called Rx: A Tale of Electronegativity. It
took me several years and hundreds – possibly thousands – of hours to do. I
would like to give it to you, all of you, regardless of region or eReader or
marketplace or format, with no bullshit, for $5. If that’s too much for you,
I’m also releasing the book episodically: You can buy the first episode right now, right here,
for the low, low price of $2! I’m crazy for savings! And my illness is tearing
my family apart.

Here's a synopsis:

Red is a user. Red is a pusher. Red is a drug addict.

And that’s not a problem.

Everybody in the Four Posts is nursing an addiction to something. In fact, their entire economy is based on the ‘feed: An officially sanctioned, omnipresent drug delivery system with terminals in every home. Red’s talent for mixing new and interesting narcotic concoctions isn’t an issue, but the fact that he accidentally ran while testing an expensive new prototype just might be. Now, with the help of QC, a walking nanotech factory, and Byron, an upper-class slacker literally addicted to the past, Red has to figure out what the strange experimental drug is doing to his mind before the sinister, faceless recovery agents tear him apart.

That is, if his frightening and increasingly real hallucinations don’t do it first.

But...but why?

I’ve done the traditional publishing route before, and I didn’t
hate it, but I also wasn’t entirely happy with it. They wanted 14 dollars for a
paperback copy of my last book, Everything is Going to Kill Everybody, and 10
dollars for just the eBook version. That seems a little steep to me, especially
to take a chance on a new author you may not end up liking. Whereas if you
plunk down five bucks for my novel and you hate it, so what? You’ve paid more for a modest meal at Taco Bell, and then thrown it in the garbage the second
it became apparent that it was Taco Bell.

What's with the "episodic" crap?

Five bucks isn’t much of a gamble, but I’d like to make it
even less risky for you: I’m releasing these episodically. Rx: A Tale of Electronegativity will
initially come in three parts, each priced at $1.99, and consisting of roughly
30k words each. Formatted to industry standards, that’s about 130 pages – more
than enough content to kill the next uppity young afternoon that gets in your way.

While I think each episode functions relatively completely, they’re
not standalone works. If the episodic release schedule bugs you – that’s fine.
There will be a collected and compiled version at the end. It’s somewhere
around 90k words -- or about 360 industry standard pages. It was always meant
to function as a complete novel, and in the end, that is what you will be
getting.

But I’m doing the episodic release first because I want to
write something where fan reaction and audience interest directly feed back
into the finished work. I have this thing completely written and the first few
editing passes finished, so there’s no question that it will be completed – I
know we’ve all been hurt by series stalling out right before the finish line
(*cough* Half Life *cough*) -- but it still needs a bit more tweaking. That
means the final product is still flexible, and I’d like you to be part of the
process. Plus, we’re knocking your “gambling that I don’t hate this” price down
to a measly dollar. To revisit an earlier analogy: You can choke down half a
Seven Layer Burrito before the self hate and gag reflex catch up to you, or you
can read a science fiction novella for a few days and maybe discover a new
author that you like, or can at least hate in a novel and exciting way.

Reviews:

I'm not going to sit here and tell you that my little book is the next big thing, or that it's taking the world by storm...but these people totally will. (Hey, it doesn't count as arrogance if you outsource it.)

Amazon:

“This book is
Episode 1 of a three-part book by Robert Brockway. The first thing readers
should know going into this is that this is not purely a humor book. Brockway
is most known for his work on Cracked.com and his other, more comedic writing.
This book is a science fiction story first and foremost. That doesn't mean that
the book isn't funny, however. Brockway's signature style of humor pops up
frequently in the book, and many sections are laugh-out-loud funny. But Rx
succeeds in being more than just a comedy book. The characters are interesting
and likeable,the plot is engaging, and the atmosphere will draw readers in. Any
fan of science fiction should be able to read this and appreciate it.”

“The first segment of Robert
Brockway's first formal foray into science fiction is a disorienting exposition
into an imaginative and daunting future. Rx is Fear of a Blank Planet meets
Snow Crash, except more. It rejects logger lines, preferring to carve out its
own space in the genre with disassembling nano-bot loogies.”

Goodreads:

“Robert
Brockway manages to do something amazing and downright magical, he has an
uncanny ability to mix and merge the wacky comedic value of our every day lives
and merges it with (somewhat) realistic views on how our current society works.
What emerges from this is a book and honestly anybody with an open mind can
take something from, whether it be the virtues and vices of having a nonchalant
and light hearted view of the worlds we are placed in, or be it how we as
humans strive to interact with the uninteractable.”

“George Orwell
imagined a bleak future born out of the totalitarian lust for control; Brockway
imagines the opposite, a bleak future born of capitalism’s aggressive apathy,
fuelled of course by the internet’s psychopathic sensationalism. Brockways
drug-addled dystopia of shantytowns built into the shell of a technologically
incredible world is a one of a kind creation and it is absolutely fascinating.
His extrapolation of modern trends is exceptionally psychologically acute; the
intense stratification of society driven by the ability of the rich to buy new
technologies that the poor cannot, the blithe recombination of anything
remotely culturally meaningful (Abraham Lincoln fights a pitched battle with a
triceratops) and the complete desensitivity to brutality and profanity all have
their roots in the modern world. I heartily recommend this book for the vivid
picture that it paints of a world gone wrong, propelled towards its doom at
break-neck speed by the very cultural cynicism and unrestrained technological
expansion that are shaping our own.”

Barnes and Noble:

“If you like gritty, far-future, kinda cyberpunk-ish sci-fi, you'll probably like this episode. If you like character-driven humor, you'll probably like this episode. If you like Lincoln-fighting-dinosaurs levels of badassery, you'll probably like this episode.”

“A great first step into the world of serious (kinda) fiction from one of Cracked's best writers. Brockway is a man who wears his influences on his sleeve; this story just stinks of Dick... and Adams, and Huxley, coming off feeling like the due reverence of a long-time sci fi addict and honest contributor to the canon. Robot zombies, Lincoln in a blood-frenzied berserker rage giving a triceratops a lobotomy with his bare hands, ALL the drugs- this 1/3 book already has more than I could expect (and I also have to give my utmost thanks to Brockway for giving me a reason to type that previous sentence). Pick it up; well worth your money.”

Sample:

Chapter One

Red
dreamt in half-present shapes; screen-burnt images twisting behind his eyelids.
They jumped, phased, reshaped, and transformed. A small pulsing oval stretched
thinner and thinner until it was a solid line, extending horizontally to
infinity. It began to spike and dip rapidly, like an oscilloscope. Its
parabolas and valleys spliced, folded, magnified and became structures. The
structures fuzzed into a network of capillaries, and those capillaries extended
and took on form. The shape split cleanly in two: One side acute and sparse,
the other fluid and organic. Details begin to pick themselves out as the two
clashed – advancing, merging and retreating as in a dance. Or a duel. The
squarish form struck with hard precision, the organic form dodged with a
feminine grace.

Red
slapped angrily at his forearm, applying a three-pronged pattern of pressure to
the panel. The gesture engaged the hardware over-ride on his pharmacological
network, and shut down the emergency protocols. The mod was illegal, of course,
but if you left the damn thing stock it blasted OD alarms in response to every
unauthorized chemical or large dose that the user ingested. Red’s exclusive
domain was unauthorized chemicals in extravagant doses; he applied the
over-ride with the same sleepy, instinctual muscle memory that others would use
to hit a snooze button.

After
the alarm went quiet, Red spent an indeterminate period of time in a state of
semi-consciousness. He mentally catalogued, denied, bargained against and
eventually accepted the myriad side-effects of a chemical hangover that he
could not remember initiating. There was
something else there, too: Some new, foreign aspect to his current situation.
It lurked at the edges of his consciousness and demanded action, but he was too
tired and too sick to venture forth into the waking world and acknowledge it.

Slowly,
the ache became unbearable. The throbs in his head built, one beat upon the
other, until there was hardly a break between them. He finally conceded that
denial was not a tactically sound option. He would have to struggle awake, and
see about fighting chemicals with chemicals. If Stoned Red was smart, he
would’ve pre-loaded Hangover Red’s Rx Card with the proper drug cocktails to
counter these effects.

Keeping
his eyes clenched shut, he fumbled his card out of his shirt pocket (noting and
disregarding the odd, bulky vest he found there; he would deal with
comprehending any unusual accessories or uniforms later), and slotted it
against his wrist. A two-tone descending chime sounded in his ear, signifying
that the card was empty.

Stoned
Red was always screwing Hangover Red.

He
would have to find a ‘feed, and load it up himself. Red sighed, and cautiously
opened his eyes, warding himself against the potentially searing light, but
found only complete, unbroken darkness. The flashing blue pulse from the
subcutaneous monitor on his forearm was the only illumination, but it was weak,
and did not extend far beyond the skin.

Red
groped apprehensively around him with his hands and feet, and ascertained a few
things about his situation:

He
was wearing his own rumpled shirt and jacket.

He
was also wearing some kind of large, clumsy vest -- fire, impact,
floatation?

He
was not wearing any pants or underwear; therefore he was likely recovering
from a gas trip (something about the gas made Stoned Red find
leg-coverings unacceptably binding).

He
was, thank God for small miracles, still wearing his own boots. The black
ones with the flexible soles, for running.

Judging
by the persistent drip sliding down his collar, and the complete lack of both
people and lightsources, he was likely somewhere below the water-line. Probably
in one of the few old catwalks that hadn’t collapsed when they first
filled the Reservoir.

Taking
all of these factors into account, Red formed a plan of action.

Step
1: Remove penis from mystery puddle.

Step
2: Vomit.

Having
accomplished this, Red straightened and surveyed his surroundings more
completely. The space to his left seemed slightly less impermeably black than
the rest. That was likely the way back toward the relative safety of one of the
Four Posts. With much painful focusing of the eyes, he could make out a cosmos
of tiny lights through the translucent glass ceiling of the catwalk: The
flotilla city, shining down from the Reservoir’s surface far above him.

He
was deep. Why would he come here? What possible reason would Stoned Red have
for stumbling all the way down below the Reservoir, into a dark floor? What did
he want, or who did he know this far belo…oh.

Oh,
no. Zippy.

Red’s
eyes frantically shot up to the pulsing oval of his BioOS. It bloomed outward,
and he quickly tabbed over to the Sent box of his messaging service. Nothing.
The sobriety filters must have stymied Stoned Red’s attempts to send any
outgoing messages, or else he’d never even tried. In his more sober days, Red
had assigned the highest priority (and therefore the most difficult logic
puzzles) to the contact info of all his old girlfriends, Zippy included. But
Stoned Red must have figured that whatever dire wisdom needed imparting
warranted an in-person visit, and stumbled off on his ill-advised quest
regardless. Red assumed, by the relative sanctity of his limbs, that Stoned Red
had failed.

Small
miracles, again.

Red
backed out of his inbox and opened the utilities panel. He flicked off the
display on his forearm, and sat staring into the dark until his nightvision
started picking out indistinct forms. He felt around the metal thing that he’d
hefted off of his own legs: Glossy, plastic shields and steel tubes. A maintenance
robot? He swept his hand across the faceplate and caught his palm on a jagged
shard: The source of the oozing fluid. Somebody had put an axe through its
head, and even Red was hard-pressed to find a scenario where he was not the
culprit. A significant fine would be levied against him soon, if the thing had
time to scan his ID code before Stoned Red had struck.

No
use regretting it now.

Red
took a few steadying breaths, paused for a quick pre-hike vomit, and set off
toward the slightly less impenetrable side of the catwalk. There followed an
eternity of tripping and swearing: He split his hands and cracked his knees on
more sharp corners than had any right to exist in a former pedestrian highway,
but he eventually managed to bumble out of the tunnel and into the comforting
solidity of a Post hallway. Some of the
lower levels were pretty seriously neglected, and the map programs in his BioOS
didn’t have accurate guides for anything below the waterline, but maintenance
always made sure the main structure was sound and at least partially
clear. If he just kept a hand to one
wall, he would eventually stumble across an elevator…which probably wouldn’t be
running.

So
it would have to be a stairwell entrance.

The
thought gave Red pause. He flicked his eyes upward to the pulsing oval for the
dozenth time, and stared at his empty Sent box.

She has no idea I’m down here,
he reassured himself, and willed his feet to move again.

Four
hallways and a busted lip later, a pinprick of light came dancing at him through
the darkness. Red paused to watch it advance. More maintenance ‘bots? Scout
drones? As long as it wasn’t a janitor, he should be able to just follow it
back to its port and god…

Damn
it.

Red
saw the man before the man saw him, and quietly dropped to his knees in the
narrow corridor, cursing under his breath. Of course it was a janitor: Too
crazy to work in proper society, janitors were engineers that had been banished
below the Reservoir to mind the foundations, seal structural flaws and repair
the fleets of maintenance ‘bots. Sometimes “crazy” merely meant “heard messages
in their teeth,” and sometimes “crazy” meant “occasionally eats people.” It
didn’t really matter to the higher ups, either way: The valuable workers who
manned the filtration plants down in the foundations all took special elevators
to their sealed off sections, far below these abandoned floors. And those were
all express lifts, straight from the worker’s dorms to the plants, with no floor
access to the sealed shafts from any point in between. Nobody of consequence
had any excuse to cross paths with a janitor, so what’s a little serial rape or
homicide on the off-hours, as long as the worklogs get updated on time?

No, that’s the cynic talking,
Red told himself. You can’t assume the
mentally ill are evil. That’s ridiculously bigoted of you. People are basically
good, or failing that, mostly harmless. This is probably just a guy who pissed
off the wrong boss, or maybe thinks he’s a meatship piloted by a crew of tiny
elves. That doesn’t mean he’s a murderer or a sexual deviant.

Besides,
the janitor was definitely working his way towards Red, and without a light,
Red could not outpace him. He straightened his spine as much as the crooked
jags of chemical agony in his veins would allow, and called out. The janitor
jumped at the noise, then swiveled in every direction, listening for the
source. Red steeled himself and hollered again, and this time the janitor set off
purposefully in his direction. When the man reached him, Red smiled benignly
and blinked up at the silhouette behind the blinding light.

Comeoncomeonnorapistnorapistnorapist-

“Been
waitin’ for a man like you,” the janitor crooned, in a voice thick with disuse.

Dammit.

FAQ

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If the info above doesn't help, you can ask the project creator directly.

Rewards

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Pledge $2 or more

4 backers

The straight up route: You’re a no-nonsense kind of consumer. You read the first episode, you loved it (naturally), and now you want to give me two dollars in return for one copy of Rx, Episode 2: Industry. BUT NOT ONE PENNY MORE! You know there’s another episode coming, and you don’t care: You don’t know if you even liked Episode 2 yet. None of this multiple pre-order business for you. Why would you buy a sequel to a sequel you haven’t even seen yet? And all because some internet comedian pinky-swore he’d give it to you in the future? Screw that! Buying Episode 3 is Future You’s problem to deal with, and that chump never did anything for you.

Estimated delivery:May 2012

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8 backers

You read the first episode, you pre-ordered the second, and you’re even putting money down on the third because you’re absolutely positive that you’ll like this book. You know what that’s called? That’s called confidence. And you know who loves that in a potential mate? Friggin’ everybody! Dang, look at you: Pure swagger.

Estimated delivery:Jul 2012

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64 backers

Five bucks gets you the collected edition, when it comes out later this summer. And I’ll even knock a buck off the price, just to reward your complete faith in me. Because that’s exactly how much faith in Robert Brockway is worth: $1. The collected edition will almost certainly differ from the episodes – new cover, new layout, and so forth – but it will be no different, story-wise. I’m editing the work as I go, of course, but I will be updating all of the episodes with the changes as well. Same story, different format.

If you’ve already bought the episodes and still want the collected edition, feel free to gift them to a friend! Or don’t! Depending on how much you like redundancy and/or dislike friends.

Estimated delivery:Aug 2012

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116 backers

A lot of novel-length eBooks these days seem to be stuck at the industry standard ten dollar price point. I’m not saying that’s too expensive – I myself happily pay that and more for most of the books I read-- but if you feel like paying that much for my little novel, I’d like to give you a little something extra in return. An order of $10 will get you the special annotated version of Rx: A Tale of Electronegativity. I’ve been basing a lot of the book off of the real emerging science, fascinating stories and bizarre images that I’ve stumbled across over the years as a professional roamer of the Internet Wasteland. I thought I’d show you all of it: The many, many news stories, studies, articles, places and photos that built the inspiration for this book, along with commentary from me throughout. If you like the idea of science fiction invading reality, the annotated version will keep you busy at least until the scientific community gets off their asses and finally invents Hoverboards.

Estimated delivery:Sep 2012

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66 backers

A signed, physical copy of the first episode. This will ONLY be available through the Kickstarter campaign, so once this thing is all through, there will be no more physical copies of individual episodes printed. I stress that last part because I do intend for there to be some kind of physical copy of the collected version available, and it sure as hell won’t be $25. This is more of a limited edition thing, and while I’m not arrogant enough to think my work warrants a collector’s edition, if your wallet wants to be that arrogant for me, I won’t stop it. As a bonus, I’ll also throw in all of the lesser packages here as well: An eBook copy of each episode, the collected version, and the annotated edition.

Estimated delivery:Oct 2012

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1 backer

Second verse, same as the first. Signed copies of the ultra-super-secret-hyper-limited-edition first and second episodes in physical form, as well as TWO copies of each eBook episode, the collected version and annotated editions.

Estimated delivery:Oct 2012

You selected

Pledge $75 or more

5 backers

Congratulations! You are capable of pattern recognition. Signed, limited edition physical copies of all three episodes. THREE copies of each eBook episode, the collected version and annotated editions.

Estimated delivery:Oct 2012

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Pledge $100 or more

18 backers

Signed, limited edition physical copies of all three episodes, plus a signed, specially addressed limited edition physical copy of the collected novel, and FIVE copies of each eBook episode, the collected version and annotated editions. I have no idea why you’re trying to collect so many electronic copies of my books, but I have to warn you: You cannot burn eBooks for fuel when the apocalypse comes. If that’s why you want these, that is not a sound investment.

Estimated delivery:Oct 2012

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Pledge $200 or more

3 backers

You’ll get all of the above: Signed, limited edition copies of each episode, a specially addressed physical copy of the collected edition, five copies of each eBook Episode, the collected version and annotated editions to distribute how you wish (I recommend copying them to thumb drives and whipping them at strangers – sure they’ll be mad at first, but then hey! Free book!), plus you’ll get a special acknowledgement in the official physical copy of the collected edition that comes out at the end. You will be remembered forever in print as the sexy and generous (if a bit impulsive) bastard that you are. That’s right: I will immortalize you. You will be a Literary Highlander.

Estimated delivery:Oct 2012

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Pledge $250 or more

2 backers

Jeez, I don’t know. Don’t do this? If you insist on throwing down more cash, you’ll get any combination of the preceding packages that the amount warrants. Or if you want to do something else, shoot me a message and we’ll see what we can figure out. No kissing on the mouth. That’s for my wife.

Estimated delivery:Oct 2012

Funding period

Mar 29, 2012 - Apr 28, 2012
(30 days)

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